The Pencil Sharpener
by lovegood.luna
Summary: What? James Potter was being held hostage by a pencil sharpener? And the pencil sharpener was really Severus Snape? And now Dumbledore's going crazy? What madness is this?
1. Chapter 1

It was the end of his 7th year. Harry thought back through all the times he had at Hogwarts. There were some good times, there were some bad times, and then there were some times when he just found himself not having any kind of time at all.

He looked back to his first year, a year he couldn't forget. Walking through those grand doors with a nervous grin on his face had felt oddly peaceful. Then, during his second year, he watched his good friend play the best game of wizard chess under terrifying circumstances. In his third year he met his godfather, Sirius Black, an event that was certainly both surprising and great in itself. Then came his fourth year, when he unwillingly competed in the Triwizard Tournament. Of course, his fifth year was next, and during it he taught the D.A. members some skills and lost a person whom he loved dearly. Eventually his sixth year arrived, and that was a year that brought a bunch of strange and confusing events...

"That year," Ron thought aloud, "What happened to V-voldemort?"

"Oh Ron, stop stumbling. Listen: Vol-de-mort" Hermione sang.

"Voldemort was transfixed on something in our sixth year. He was staring at...." Harry stopped, trying to remember clearly, "What was that thing?"

"It was a pencil sharpener. Didn't you see he was sharpening something? It was long, had a dull tip, and the machine made a fairly loud noise." Ron replied.

"It was a pencil! Hasn't your dad taught you _anything_ about muggle objects?" Hermione responded, exasperated.

Harry seemed confused. "What would Voldemort want with a pencil?"

Ron laughed, "Maybe he was writing his next victim down."

There was a silence.

"Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"That was unnecessary." Harry remarked.

"Err, yeah, sorry."

Suddenly Hermione gasped. "You guys better come see this!" She signaled to an open copy of the Quibbler.

The two boys walked over and froze when they saw the headline.

**"****James Potter Spotted Alive"**

"No...this must be a joke!" It just didn't make sense, not even in the wizarding world. He couldn't still be alive, nor could he have been fetched from death with his normal self in tow.

Or could he?

Hermione began reading, _"James Potter, father of Harry Potter, has been spotted outside Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It seems he was being held hostage by a very small pencil sharpener. After some tests, it has been discovered that the pencil sharpener was actually Severus Snape, the man we all presumed to be dead after that...fortunate event. Anyway, Snape has been sent to Azkaban where he is spending his days in a "jail pen"... I don't know about you, but I'm pretty freaked out about pencil sharpeners now (not that I've ever used one)! Well, that's all for the recent big news. This was Rita Skeeter."_

"How did we not hear about this before?! I mean, seriously, this was published _weeks_ ago!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione just about fell over with impatience, "Are you really asking this? We've been cut off from news for months! I only discovered this issue of the Quibbler while scrounging around outside this morning. It must have blown over here over night."

A blush rose to Ron's cheeks and he began to bicker some more with Hermione.

Meanwhile, Harry stood motionless. Nothing was making sense anymore. Suddenly he made a mindless decision and hurried out of the hut.

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione shouted after him, attempting to catch up.

"Hogwarts." Harry glanced back at Hermione; he could see worry in her eyes.

"Erm," Ron cut in, "and how will we get there?"


	2. Chapter 2

It took about 4 hours to get to the school by broom without being seen. When the three arrived, they hurried off to Dumbledore's office and tried all sorts of typical Albus passwords before finally entering.

"Professor Dumbledore! Wha-" Harry, Ron, and Hermione began at once.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk, his face pale.

"I can't believe that Snape! He knows I dislike pencil sharpeners, of all muggle things, the most! It's just so, ugh---"

Harry interrupted Dumbledore's thoughts, "Professor, what's this about my father?" And then, "Wait, _that's _what you're worried about?"

"Oh, honestly," Hermione sighed.

"You kids must have just read that slimy beetle's article from last month? I did too," Dumbledore chuckled.

"What?! You just_ read _it? But you're Albus Dumbledore; you know everything that goes on around here!" A thought abruptly crossed the teens' minds. "You _are_ Dumbledore, aren't you? This so isn't like you! It's as if you're being altered by someone writing a fan fiction. Or worse..."

"Does that mean I have fans?"

The teenagers looked at each other.

"Oh, Harry, he's useless," Hermione murmured.

At that, the three headed out of the room with worry, confusion, and hope that someone sane could fill them in on everything.


End file.
